


she looks so perfect standing there (in my american apparel underwear)

by lexa_lives_in_us



Series: Janaya Week 2020 [5]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, F/F, Foster Care, Janaya Week 2020 (The Dragon Prince), Tattoos, Texting, and it's gonna get darker, anyway this is really gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22730512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lexa_lives_in_us/pseuds/lexa_lives_in_us
Summary: Janaya Week - Day 5: TattooAmaya is gay.It’s not something that she’s realizing now, clearly, but it’s definitely something that, at times, hits her like a rock.Although, what she’s witnessed a gloomy afternoon of three weeks ago has hit her like a fucking avalanche.When Sarai had been alive, Amaya had had to suffer through the stupid amount of jokes that her sister would crack every single time Amaya was to see a pretty girl.Amaya had always had the habit of halting whatever she was doing in order to, to put it mildly, stare like an idiot.The years without her sister have not changed that.The only thing that is changed, now, is the person cracking the jokes.And after what has happened three weeks ago, Gren won’t fucking stop.To be completely honest -not that she’ll ever tell Gren that- walking into a pole because she was staring at a girl’s ass is something worth cracking jokes on.
Relationships: Amaya & Gren (The Dragon Prince), Amaya/Janai (The Dragon Prince), Gren & Kazi (The Dragon Prince), Janai & Kazi (The Dragon Prince)
Series: Janaya Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1606216
Comments: 113
Kudos: 233





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be my Day 5 - Tattoo submission for the Janaya Week.  
> So of course it turned into a monster multi chapter fic.  
> Not beta'd.

**Day 5 - Tattoo**

**Janaya Week 2020**

* * *

Amaya is gay.

It’s not something that she’s realizing now, clearly, but it’s definitely something that, at times, hits her like a rock.

Although, what she’s witnessed a gloomy afternoon of three weeks ago has hit her like a fucking avalanche.

When Sarai had been alive, Amaya had had to suffer through the stupid amount of jokes that her sister would crack every single time Amaya was to see a pretty girl.

Amaya had always had the habit of halting whatever she was doing in order to, to put it mildly, stare like an idiot.

The years without her sister have not changed that.

The only thing that is changed, now, is the person cracking the jokes.

And after what has happened three weeks ago, Gren won’t fucking _stop_.

To be completely honest -not that she’ll ever tell Gren that- walking into a pole because she was staring at a girl’s ass _is_ something worth cracking jokes on.

To her credit, she doubts she’s ever seen someone that beautiful.

Amaya and Gren had just closed down shop for the day, sort of aware of the new tattoo and piercing parlour that had recently opened across the street.

They hadn’t had the chance to meet the owner yet, but Amaya hadn’t been too keen on doing so.

People always tend to grimace upon finding out she is deaf. It’s something that used to piss off Sarai to no end; since her sister’s death she hasn’t given too much of a thought. But being used to it doesn’t mean she wants to go out of her way to meet people who will potentially ostracize her.

Which is why, although the _Lux Aurea_ parlour had been open for over a month now, Amaya hadn’t really had the chance, nor the interest, to find out more about it.

Until that day.

When Gren had closed the door and tossed her the keys, Amaya had turned, her gaze drawn to something happening across the street.

The owner of _Lux Aurea_ had just closed their own shop, and had turned around to walk away.

Amaya had walked straight into the pole.

The person across the street, a gorgeous, dark skinned Sunfire Elf, was absolutely and unmistakably the hottest woman Amaya had seen in her entire life.

She had long, dark red dreadlocks flowing around her horns, collected in a ponytail to show the perfectly trimmed undercut.

Her clothes, a dark red three pieces suit with a tight vest were beautifully cut and fitted to her stunningly tall, athletic body.

Her blouse, a light golden shirt that would’ve looked awful on absolutely anyone else except this woman, had the sleeves rolled up to the woman’s forearm, revealing an intricate collection of precise designs.

The tattoo sleeve itself, on the right arm, was something that Amaya never had thought she was going to be into.

But, she remembers now thinking as she hit the pole with her face, she wouldn’t have minded finding out where they disappeared to.

Amaya remembers the blinding pain of the metal on her forehead, and when she’d looked up, the woman had disappeared, and the only person in sight had been Gren, on the floor like her, shamelessly howling in laughter.

Amaya remembers everything way too clearly, and the image of that stunning woman literally haunts her dreams.

Amaya doesn’t know her name yet, but she’s more than determined to find out.

Of course, being so desperately gay, she doesn’t want to risk finding out whether or not the Elf has seen her making a fool out of herself, so she is more than decided to do some scouting before hand.

And to do scouting, there is no better ally than Gren.

He’s been her assistant since he’d been a kid, the lonely and helpless target of the neighbourhood bullies.

Amaya had taken him in, given him a job and taught him self defence.

And after fixing his problems with the bullies in school, Gren had stayed.

Not out of pity or because he’d felt like he owed her, but because he’d genuinely fallen in love with flowers.

Amaya shop is the smallest, busiest flower store in town.

She is proud of how it turned out, a small oasis where everyone can find something of their taste, or where they can fall in love with something new.

And this is also one of the reasons why she’s sending Gren to scout out the parlour.

Amaya needs to know what the woman’s favorite flower is.

Gren comes back after his first outing to the parlour with a stupid grin on his face.

Amaya doesn’t really question it, as Gren has the tendency to dream with his eyes open, and leans forward to know what he’s found out.

Turns out, as Gren signs rapidly and excitedly, the woman isn’t currently in the shop, but her colleague, a non-binary Sunfire beauty by the name of Kazi, is.

“They’re the piercer at _Lux Aurea_.” He says.

Amaya raises one eyebrow.

She’s happy to know a bit more about the shop across the street, but Kazi is definitely not the name she’d wanted.

Her expression must be quite clear on her face, because Gren’s grin widens, as he spells something more.

Janai. The name of the Elf is Janai.

Amaya loves how it flows through her fingers as she spells it back a couple of times, making sure that she’s got it right.

Gren nods and disappears in the back of the shop to take care of the delivery, and Amaya is left to grin to herself.

She has a name, now. Only thing left is finding out her favorite plant.

The day after, Amaya is filing their order, hunched over the table, pencil on the paper and the other hand mindlessly moving on its own, elbow on the counter and fingers weaving through the air. It’s always been a tick of hers.

When her and Sarai had been small, she’d used to go through the alphabet with her fingers. Growing up, she’d gone through phases: spelling animals, colors, cities and as she was stressing whether or not she wanted to finish college, flowers. She is not stressed out often now, with the shop and her life quite always in order, but together with dealing with her nephews situation, filling up the order sheet is something that she’s never liked to do.

She likes to be with her flowers, not thinking about the math part of her business.

So today, as she fills up the order for next week, her mind wanders to unknown places, and her fingers move on their own, spelling the name of the person who’s inhabiting her mind at every hour of the day.

She almost doesn’t notice the light on the counter going off, a sign that a new costumer has entered the store, but when she does look up, is to greet a smug, knowing grin of a Sunfire Elf.

Amaya watches in awe as Gren flings himself out of the back room and into the shop, flushed red like his own hair, and a charmed smile on his face.

The costumer throws just a general glance at Amaya before becoming absolutely smitten with Gren.

Amaya crosses her arms.

Gren shuffles from one foot to the other, laughing to something that the Elf must’ve said, and for a long minute it’s just those two, talking and giggling, without realizing they have become Amaya’s new favorite show.

She leans back toward the counter and taps her fingers on it.

Gren and the Elf snap their attention back to Amaya, who is watching them with a knowing, amused grin on her face.

“Oh!” Gren exclaims, blushing even more. He scratches the back of his neck and laughs, nervously. “Amaya! Amaya, this is Kazi. Kazi, this is Amaya.”

Amaya is pretty sure the name rings a bell, but she can’t quite pin point where she’s heard it.

She still shakes the Elf’s hand, and while she does, Gren signs quickly, from behind Kazi’s back: “They work at the tattoo parlour.”

That makes it click.

Amaya focuses back on Kazi who, once their hand is being released, starts _signing_.

“I’ve heard about you from... Gren.” They say, pausing before finger spelling Gren’s name, then raising their eyebrows.

Amaya’s eyes widen just so.

She’s not one to be caught by surprise. But she is a very smart woman, and she realizes two things.

One, Gren is not the only person Kazi has heard from about her. Meaning that Janai must’ve seen her face planting onto the pole.

Two, Kazi must have seen her finger spelling Janai’s name, a few minutes ago.

Amaya’s gaze hardens.

She doesn’t like to be caught unprepared.

And she’s crushing hard on this woman whom she’s never met, but she’s not going to allow a stranger to make fun of her or-

Kazi shakes their head. An awkward but soft smile colors their feature as they add: “Don’t worry. I won’t tell a soul.”

Amaya blinks.

Gren looks between her and Kazi, confused.

“Tell what? Amaya?”

Amaya holds Kazi’s gaze, and when the Elf doesn’t make a move to answer Gren’s question, she nods.

Her _Thank you_ sign is so short and abrupt that it could be mistaken for a _Good_.

Either way, Kazi smiles, turns on their heels and leaves the shop.

Amaya does not tell Gren what happened.

She loves the guy, adores him really, but she’s not willing to suffer through his jokes more than it’s necessary.

It’s mortifying enough as it is.

Amaya doesn’t see Janai nor Kazi for the next couple of days.

It’s upsetting how much she’s enamoured with a woman she’s literally seen once.

Gren doesn’t find it weird, but then again, Gren has developed an even worse crush on the other Sunfire Elf, so she can’t really trust his judgment.

When she tells him as such, Gren is quick to bite back.

“At least I didn’t walk into a pole.”

Amaya narrows her eyes.

She can’t trust Gren at _all_.

She likes Valentine’s Day.

Valentine’s Day is good for business.

Valentine’s Day means everyone and their mothers buying flowers as last minute gifts.

But Valentine’s Day also means overtime hours, a crowded space and rude people who can’t stop touching her flowers or stay in line.

Amaya plays both the good and the bad cop for a full day every year, and she’s grateful for Gren, really, because she doesn’t know how she would handle all these people on her own.

By the time she closes shop, it’s a full hour after her usual time.

She gives Gren a few hours off for the following day, fully knowing she will be seeing him at opening time anyway.

The kid can’t help it.

She walks home, too mentally tired to get the car and put focus into driving, hoping not to cross any other human being on her way.

She casts a glance at the tattoo shop on the other side of the street, but the lights are off and there doesn’t seem to be any movements coming from inside.

Amaya sighs, too tired to even consider going to the gym like she usually does, and heads home.

She collapses on the couch with no energy, puts on Gilmore Girls on Netflix and somehow manages to follow the first half of an episode. When her brain starts to slow down, Lorelai’s words too quick even for her bright mind, she takes a look at the clock and groans.

It’s barely seven.

She knows that, if she goes to bed now, she’ll be waking up at dawn the day after, and she just doesn’t like waking up when the sun isn’t out yet. It makes her nervous.

So she grabs her phone, jumping from Instagram to Twitter without managing to find something that really interests her. It’s a weekday, so she can’t even FaceTime Callum and Ezran to see how they’re doing.

Bored, but still determined to wait at least another hour before going to bed, she opens Tinder.

She hasn’t been on it in a while, and she finds half a dozen conversations she’s forgotten to reply to.

She shamelessly answers to some with a quick excuse (“Sorry, work got so busy!!”) and straight up deletes the rest. It’s not like she holds any high hope for any of them to be her soulmate, or something.

She finds Tinder just an incredibly easy way to get laid, and she thinks that maybe, if she lands a date with a nice enough girl, she’ll be able to move on from that stupid crush of hers.

So she starts swiping.

It’s not even a minute before her plan backfires.

Janai’s face pops up on her screen, and Amaya damn nearly hurls her phone across the room.

With her heart in her throat, she stares at the picture on her screen and loses any contact with reality.

Janai is stunning.

It’s not something that Amaya hasn’t noticed, because the pole is a clear enough demonstration that she’s seen her, but this is something else.

The picture Janai’s set as her main photo portrays the Elf, leaning against a countertop with a drink in her hand, long fingers clasping the glass. Janai is wearing a dark blouse, unbuttoned just enough to show the curve of her breast, and jeans so tight that Amaya would believe it if someone told her they had been painted on her legs.

Janai is not looking at the camera, staring instead at someone on her left, gaze focused and the light lines on her face disappearing in the collar of her shirt and somewhere below that.

Amaya has a strong, desperate desire to find out exactly _where_ they disappear to.

With her heart in her throat, she taps to see the rest of Janai’s profile.

The second picture is still Janai with another woman: they look strikingly similar, but the other Elf is blonde, her face has sharper features, and her arm is slung casually but protectively around Janai’s shoulder. This picture and the first must’ve been taken a few seconds or minutes apart, because outfit and background are exactly the same.

Blessing and cursing every single one of her life choices, Amaya taps to see the third picture.

Janai’s face appears again, and this one is unmistakably a selfie. She is holding an orange and blue sabertooth tiger cub, and she’s smiling softly at the creature while taking the picture.

Amaya stares way longer than she has any of the other photos.

She has it bad. She knows she does.

She knows she should do something about it, too.

Instead, she just taps to see the fourth and last picture, and all the warmth in her body goes straight in her lower belly, as her jaw hits the floor.

Janai is at the beach, leaning against a surf board, her dreadlocks collected in a high bun and a tight scarf wrapped around them.

Her dark skin is glowing under the sun, the golden lines of her henné tracing a path from her neck down to her chest, disappearing inside the top of her bathing suit. More golden marks paint her stomach, perfectly highlighting the lines of her abs, then fading once again in the bottom piece of her suit.

Janai looks distracted, her sunglasses lazily resting on her eyes and her lips curved in a lopsided smile.

The smile of someone who is stupidly hot and _knows_ it.

Amaya’s mouth is dry.

This woman is, hands down, the hottest person she’s ever seen, and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t get in her bed at least _once_.

She swipes right.

She is fully prepared to lock her phone and actually get ready for bed, when the screen lights up with two icons, surrounded by fireworks emojis and the caption “It’s a MATCH! Say hi to Janai!”

Amaya blinks.

For a match to happen this quickly it means that she had already been liked, which also means that Janai has seen her profile and-

This can’t be happening.

She stares at the fireworks in disbelief until her screen goes black, and only then she fumbles to unlock it again, tapping furiously to open the conversation with her newest match.

And when the text screen finally appears, she watches in delight and shock the three dots appearing at the corner.

Janai is typing.

Amaya holds her breath.

She absolutely can’t believe that the woman she’s been crushing on for the past few weeks is actually willingly texting her first after matching with her on Tinder.

This shit doesn’t happen in real life.

Amaya waits, and after a few long, strenuous seconds, a message appears.

**“How is your face?”**

Amaya stares at the screen for a solid minute, a blush spreading across her features together with a grin. She swipes up for the keyboard, punching in her answer.

“omg savage”

The three dots appear almost immediately.

**“It was a perfect way to start a conversation, you should admit it.”**

Amaya chuckles to herself. She is somewhat right.

“never”

**“Seriously, though. Are you okay?”**

Amaya’s heart swells.

Not only Janai is absolutely smoking hot, but so far she seems to be a pretty decent person, too.

“Yeah. It was a tiring day and wasn’t looking where I was going.”

There is no way in hell or Hogwarts that she is going to tell Janai why she had gotten distracted. Knowing that she has seen her falling on her ass after face planting onto a pole is mortifying enough.

The response takes a little longer to come, this time. The dots appear and disappear, almost like Janai is typing and then deleting her words.

Finally, her phone pings again.

**“Please, do not take this the wrong way. I am genuinely curious. What makes handling a flower shop tiring?”**

Amaya stares at her phone.

If it had been anyone else, she probably would’ve deleted the conversation right there and then, because she definitely would’ve taken it the wrong way.

But something about the way the message is worded -and maybe her wishful thinking, her hope that Janai is indeed a good person- makes her stop.

She sighs.

She knows that not many people are aware of the kind of work that goes behind working in a place like hers.

There’s a lot more to it than just picking up the delivered flowers out of the truck and putting them on the shelf.

There’s inventory, there’s managing her business on her own. Sure, Gren is of great help, but there are some things that even he can’t do.

There’s organizing the back storage, there’s cleaning, there’s the whole retail experience that Amaya would not wish on anyone else.

She loves people, in general, but retail would make even the most understanding of saints lose their minds. And Amaya has not a great deal of patience anyway.

But what a lot of people don’t take in consideration is that, contrary to many other retail situations, she has to constantly take care of her products. She has to water her flowers, crop the excesses, replant the young sprouts, make sure that some plants are getting enough light while protecting others from getting too much.

It’s like having children who, thankfully, can’t really move around too much.

And even then, she has to make sure that her poison ivy doesn’t decide to take over the storage room if left unattended for too long.

Amaya finds herself typing all this, a message after the other, her passion for her job mixed with the frustration of handling her own business. When she sends the last sentence, she takes a look at the screen and immediately regrets deciding to open Tinder in the first place.

She has written so much, completely lost in what she was saying, that Janai’s last message has disappeared from the screen, completely overrun by Amaya’s.

When the three famous dots do not appear after another minute, Amaya throws the phone on the couch, frustrated and irritated at herself.

She’s just blown any small chance she might have had, and just because her brain is too tired to function properly.

She stares at the television screen, where Netflix is asking her if she’s still watching the show.

She scoffs, turning it off and grabbing her phone again, more than determined to go to bed and never emerge from it again.

But when her phone is flipped upside down, the screen lights up, showing a couple new notifications.

With her heart in her throat, she opens them.

**“Sorry, I had to feed my cub.”**

**“You seem so very passionate about your job, it must be rewarding. It is something not many people have.”**

Amaya blinks, rapidly. She can’t tell if Janai is sincerely interested in her or if she’s just being polite and is trying to find a way to end that conversation.

“rewards?”

**“Passion.”**

Amaya smiles despite herself.

“well yeah I really do love my job. I love flowers”

She sounds lame, and she knows it, but she really has no idea what to do with this conversation. She’d swiped on Janai’s profile in the hope that, sooner rather than later, she would’ve fallen into bed with the smoking hot Sunfire Elf. But now she just feels like a teenager again, in front of her first crush, not knowing what to say.

Before she has the chance to add anything else, Janai texts again.

**“I imagine today must have been a really exhausting day for you, then.”**

Amaya bites her lip. Yeah, Janai imagines correctly.

“hell yeah. but we don’t have to talk bout my job y’know”

“It’s pretty boring”

**“I want to know more, though.”**

“about my job?”

**“About you.”**

Amaya’s heart skips a beat.

Who _is_ this woman?

Why does she have such an effect on her?

She seems smooth, but it’s a different kind of smoothness to the one she’s used to.

It’s something natural, a genuine charm that simply lures Amaya in.

She starts typing a response, and her phone’s screen goes black.

She hurls herself off the couch and straight into her bedroom, scrambling to find her charger next to her bedside table, and fumbling with it until she manages to plug her phone back in.

She stares at the small fruit icon of her Moonberry phone appearing on the black screen, cursing herself and all of her life choices.

When the phone finally turns back on, she finds the Tinder app and opens it, typing a rushed but sincere:

“I wanna know more about you too”

Biting her nail, she stares and stares at the conversation.

A minute.

Two.

She checks Instagram to see if the connection is working, and when she sees that yes, it is, she goes back to Tinder.

No answer.

Scoffing, Amaya picks herself up from where she’s been sitting, on the floor and next to her bed, and finally decides to get ready to sleep.

As she checks her phone one last time before closing her eyes, her last message is still unanswered.

The three dots don’t appear again.

***

When the gentle vibration of her FitBit wakes her up, the day after, Amaya feels like death has run her over.

She’s absolutely exhausted, her knees hurting slightly from the whole day spent standing behind a counter or running around to make bouquets.

She rolls out of bed, picking up her phone on her way to the bathroom, and that’s when she sees the notification.

Exhaustion seems to evaporate as happiness and excitement take its place in her brain and body.

**“Well, then. Ask anything, I will be glad to answer.”**

If anyone were to ask, Amaya would deny it.

But since she lives alone, and she has to answer to absolutely nobody, she throws her hands in the air and moonwalks all the way to the bathroom.

“oooh anything? thats a lot of power ur giving me”

“morning btw”

**“I am aware. Good morning to you.”**

They end up texting during Amaya’s breakfast, as she brushes her teeth, as she gets dressed, and as she finally makes her way to work.

Amaya is not usually one to walk and text: she likes to be aware of her surroundings, and texting is always quite distracting.

But as she walks to her flower shop, finding Gren already inside, she can’t help but checking her phone every few seconds, hoping to see Janai’s answer to whatever topic they’re talking about.

“c’mon, I need to know.”

**“I will tell you my favorite flower when you tell me what kind of tattoo you would like to have, one day.”**

Amaya scoffs, leaning on the counter. She still has a couple of minutes before opening time.

“I’m not telling”

**“Neither am I.”**

Amaya narrows her eyes. The woman is infuriating, but in a charming way. They have been bantering about different things since that morning, and Amaya is amused and intrigued at the same time.

“well I’ll have to guess then”

Amaya can picture a smile on Janai’s face as she reads her next message.

**“Be my guest.”**

Oh, it’s _so_ on.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amaya is too gay to function.  
> Janai is hot and proper.  
> Gren and Kazi keep being little shits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided not to keep the same lenght for the chapters. Some will be real long, some real short. I just want to post every time I have something for you.  
> So here you go, enjoy AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE AMAZING FEEDBACK OF CHAPTER ONE.  
> Once again, not beta'd because of reasons.

**Chapter 2**

* * *

They wish each other a good day, Janai having to work on a tattoo and Amaya having to open her own shop.

As she goes through the day, checking her plants and her flowers and making sure that everything is healthy and good for sale, Amaya finds herself studying various items, wondering which one could be Janai’s favorite.

She’s usually pretty good at guessing people’s tastes based on her first impressions, but Janai has turned out to be everything like she’d thought she was, and nothing like it.

Looking outside the window and across the street, she can see a pizza delivery boy exiting the parlour.

Her eyes widen, and her face splits with a grin.

She finds a rose, a small, thorn-less red rose that has escaped yesterday’s madness, and wraps a little blue bow around the stem.

She grabs a card, scribbling the Draconic name for rose on it, and attaches it to the rose as well.

Then, knowing full well that she’ll have to suffer through an endless string of questions coming from her friend, she rings the bell on the counter, calling Gren to the front of the shop.

When he arrives, she gives him the rose.

_Special delivery_.

Gren nods, checking the card for the address, then furrowing his brows when he doesn’t find it. He looks back up to find her with one hand shoved in the pockets of her jeans and a shit eating grin on her face.

_It’s for Janai_.

Gren starts laughing like a madman, patting her shoulder with one full hand, then points his finger at her.

“You are insane. And you are clearly not telling me something.” He signs.

Amaya shrugs.

_Can I trust you with this or you’ll accidentally give the flower to the wrong person?_

That shuts him up, as he blushes to the tip of his ears.

Amaya snickers, throwing an arm around his shoulders and squeezing him with a smile.

Gren smiles back.

“I’ll go deliver this, then we’re going to take our lunch break and you’re going to tell me everything. Deal?”

_Deal_.

Gren cackles, taking his apron off with one swift move and making his way outside.

Amaya goes to the window, not so subtly checking her friend’s progress while pretending to fix some flower’s petals, but she loses sight of him as soon as he enters the parlour.

She waits, deciding to leave her poor flowers alone, until she sees Gren exiting Lux Aurea and running back across the street with a laugh.

“That was _amazing_.” It’s the first thing he says. “She was absolutely shocked. Blushed a bit, too! She grabbed the rose and went to hide in the back.”

Amaya beams.

She doesn’t know if she’s guessed the flower -she highly doubts Janai’s favorite is a rose- but she’s made her blush, and that counts like a huge win in her book.

Gren looks at her expectantly and she knows she is in for a long explanation, which she eventually provides.

For the rest of the day, she feels like she’s walking on a cloud.

That afternoon, after she’s done FaceTiming with her nephews, she receives a message from Janai.

It’s a picture, a selfie, that makes Amaya’s heart soar.

Janai has the rose in front of her face, hiding a smile.

As a caption, Janai simply texts **“Thank you. Try again.”**

Amaya laughs at her screen, wiggling herself in a better position on the couch, not even bothering to turn on the tv.

**“Are you busy?”**

“nope.”

“unless you count talking to you as busy”

**“I do. Can I keep you busy?”**

“absolutely. so not a rose, maybe ur more of a orchidea person?”

**“Absolutely not. Bird tattoo?”**

“how dare you. I wouldn’t get a bird tattoo if you paid me”

They talk late into the evening, until Janai excuses herself to go to sleep.

Amaya decides to go to bed as well, but when she wakes up, it’s to be greeted by a new message.

That day, she sends an azalea.

Gren comes back reporting the same reaction from yesterday, and sure enough, when she locks the shop and heads for the gym, Amaya finds another selfie with the flower.

Amaya knows that it’s a blessing she owns her own flower shop, because she is going to send Janai a flower a day for the rest of her life, if this means getting a new picture of Janai every time.

They spend almost two weeks going back and forth like this, Gren having taken it very seriously in his daily mission.

Amaya doesn’t even mind that he spends more and more time away with each delivery, undoubtedly stopping to talk to Kazi.

They are both completely screwed for the two Sunfire Elves across the street, but if Kazi’s awkwardness every time they step into the store for some random hello and goodbye is of any indication, they’re not the only ones.

Kazi asks them about random object every day as well, musing whether or not Amaya would get a tattoo of this or that item.

“Why don’t you just... Cross the street and go deliver it yourself, next time?” Gren asks one morning, shaking the rain off his hair.

_I thought you liked getting to spend time with Kazi._

Gren blushes, then shakes his head.

“Don’t change the subject.”

Amaya narrows her eyes at him, before taking a deep sigh and deflating.

_I don’t know. What if it all stops?_

Gren hops on the counter.

“What do you mean?”

She shrugs.

_What if we have this great connection through the phone and, well, through you two, but then in person we’re just..._

She shrugs again.

Gren tilts his head, curiosity and a spark of mischievousness in his eyes.

“I thought you just wanted to sleep with her. Since when you care about having a connection?”

Amaya scoffs, crossing her arms.

He’s not wrong.

What started with a pure, instinctual physical attraction has now become something more.

She _likes_ Janai.

Which is absurd, because she’s never even met the woman.

Well, not officially. She feels like she knows her way more than she’s known many of the people she’s dated in the past.

But that’s the thing. She doesn’t want to lose this.

This feels safe.

She tells Gren as much, and Gren, bless his soul, actually understands.

“It’s normal to be scared, you know?” He says, “But I for one am convinced you two will do just fine.”

Amaya looks out the window. She can barely see the parlour from where she is, thanks to the rain creating a cloud of water that obscures almost everything.

Gren places a hand on her shoulder, signing with the other.

“Just think about it.”

Amaya does think about it.

She thinks about it for the rest of the day. She thinks about it as she closes shop and she thinks about it as she heads for the gym.

Even there, on the treadmill first and while lifting weights later, she thinks about it.

By the time she reaches home and she decides to open her messages again -she’s given Janai her phone number a week ago- she has a plan.

She will ask Janai out tomorrow. With the help of Kazi or Gren, she’s determined to make that first step.

**“You know, I send you pictures every day, but you never let me see your face.”**

Janai texts as she opens her front door.

Amaya smiles. It’s true.

Her phone gallery is full with Janai’s selfies, one cuter than the other.

She discards her bag and goes to turn on the shower.

“duh, cus ur face is a masterpiece, u gotta take pictures everyday”

She can literally feel Janai sigh.

Turns out, despite her incredibly smooth demeanor, Janai seems to be quite affected by every compliment Amaya gives her.

As she waits for an answer, she tosses her shirt in the hamper, and that’s when she has an idea. She grabs her phone again and snaps a picture through the mirror, of herself in yoga pants, sports bra and post-gym hair.

She doesn’t stop to think about her body much, but she knows she’s fit. A kind of fit that had made many of her Tinder dates’ mouths water.

Without giving herself time to overthink it, she sends the picture to Janai.

She bites her lower lip with a half-smile as she sees the three dots appearing and disappearing several times.

Then...

**“Amaya. Fuck...”**

Whereas Amaya has dropped at least a swear word a day during their text chains, this is the first time that she’s seen Janai use any sort of coarse language.

And it does _things_ to her.

She feels heat pooling in her lower belly, and she has to sit down on her tub, clutching the phone in her hands.

“see something you like?”

The answer is almost immediate.

**“Yes. Very much so.”**

Encouraged by the response, completely forgetting about the shower, Amaya starts typing again.

“did a tiny little selfie turn you on, Janai?”

She knows she’s being very straightforward, but it’s not like this is a surprise to them: they have matched on Tinder, the app made for hooking up.

The fact that they have been talking and bantering through text for the past couple of weeks doesn’t really change that.

**“...Maybe.”**

Amaya stomach somersaults, and now she really is turned on herself.

She swallows.

And then her phone screen changes, and the picture of Callum and Ezran pops up on the screen.

She almost falls inside the bath tub, but she manages to pick herself up, decline the call, find her sweaty T-shirt and put it back on, before sending a quick message to her nephews asking to call back in five, and one to Janai.

“shit sry I have to go. my nephews are calling me, I gotta take that.”

Janai takes a little longer to answer, but when she does, her answer is short.

**“Don’t worry. You take care of that. I take care of me.”**

Amaya’s brain short circuits.

She can’t be meaning what she thinks she’s meaning.

She is debating whether or not she wants to ask for confirmation when her nephews call again.

She takes a deep breath, plastering a smile on her face and trying to hide how bothered she is.

But when Callum and Ezran’s faces appear on her screen, smiling and signing hello, she doesn’t have to worry about pretending anymore.

As she goes to bed that night, she texts Gren.

“I’m delivering the flower tmw”

Her best friend’s answer is a long block of many different emojis, culminating with an eggplant one.

Amaya laughs, then switches her phone off.

Delivering a flower turns to be one of the most stressful ordeals she’s had to do in a very long time.

And it starts at her own apartment.

She spends so long in front of her closet that she misses her chance to have breakfast.

It speaks volumes about how nervous she is, when the thought of missing the most important meal of her day doesn’t upset her as it usually would.

In the end, she ends up with a pair of jeans that hang low on her waist, showing off a small portion of her black boxers, a her favorite basketball tee that Callum and Ezran have gotten her for last year’s birthday, and her trusted baseball cap, pressed backward on her black hair.

As she slips on her Vans, her phone lights up.

It’s Janai.

**“Cactus.”**

Amaya snorts.

“I will not tattoo a cactus on my body.”

**“A woman can dream.”**

Amaya laughs. Janai has a very peculiar sense of humour.

Her heart beats hard in her chest at the thought of finally seeing her today.

When she walks inside her own shop, almost half hour later, Gren is waiting for her with a Starbucks order and a pbj sandwich.

He looks her up and down and shakes his head.

_What?!_

Gren sighs theatrically, resting his chin on his fist.

“Nothing. You are just so very gay.”

Amaya smirks.

_I’ll take it as a compliment._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the format for the text messages is working for you, I'm literally to swamped to find a better formatting.  
> Whoop!


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is gay.  
> Amaya has no filter and no self-control.  
> Janai is just very hot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much for the amazing feedback, I can't believe this story is so liked. I was afraid of posting it cause I wasn't liking it, but y'all are just amazing.  
> Keep in mind this story was supposed to be a one-shot, but here we go.  
> ENJOY
> 
> [Un-beta'd]

**Chapter 3**

* * *

Amaya is _so_ not delivering that flower today.

First of all, her shop has been incredibly full the whole morning, making her and Gren fall behind on all their duties. She still has an order to fill out for the week after, and she doesn’t even know which flower she should be delivering this time anyway.

So when her lunch break rolls around, she sits behind the counter with her feet propped on it and pretends like nothing is happening.

Of course, when Gren comes out with his apron in his hand, she can’t avoid his stare for too long. She balances on the two back legs of her chair and shrugs.

_I’m not going._

Gren crosses his arms.

“Amaya, you either go on your own right now or I’m going to tell her exactly why you walked into the pole, that day.”

Amaya slams her chair back on the floor.

_You would never_.

Gren raises an eyebrow.

He would. Amaya knows very well that he would.

She growls, which would be something terrifying for anyone who doesn’t know her.

Unfortunately for her, Gren knows her and he knows her well. He points at the door and she stands, grumpily marching out of it.

It’s only when she’s raising her hand to grab the handle of _Lux Aurea_ door that she realizes she hasn’t gotten a flower with her.

Well, it’s too late to go back now.

So she steadies herself and heads in.

The studio is dark, and her eyes take a few seconds to adapt completely.

The walls are painted black, with beautiful designs in white and gold running throughout the place. Amaya sees a couple of dragons, a flock of sabertooth tigers flying with Moonshadow lions, and adoraburrs plopped here and there in random spots.

Soft neon lights decorate the studio, with bright lamps at the two different stations.

On the left, an empty bed and a chair, where the tattooist usually works. The walls around it are covered in sketches of many different tattoos, with different styles, some coloured and some black and white. On the right, next to the main counter, the piercer is helping a customer who is currently sitting at their own chair, ready to get whatever body modification they have chosen for the day.

Amaya takes it all in, and smiles at Kazi when they turn around to see who’s entered the place.

Kazi signs hello with an overly enthusiastic smile, and Amaya waves back.

Her hand is still in the air when another movement catches her attention.

Someone is coming in from the back room, through a corridor set between the two work station.

Amaya has to force herself to stay rooted on the spot on not do something too rushed like running away or too crazy like grabbing Janai and kissing her right there and then.

Because the Elf is absolutely breathtaking.

She is wearing a pencil skirt that hugs her waist in a sinful way, a sleeveless white top and -Amaya prays the Gods she didn’t make any sound at that sight- a _tie_.

Her hair, with that perfectly and neatly trimmed undercut, is once again collected on her head in a high ponytail, and Amaya can distinctly see a couple rings enveloped around her horns.

Janai is saying something to Kazi that Amaya can’t quite understand, too focused on not dying right there and then at that perfect vision.

But then, Janai turns to look at her and their eyes meet.

Amaya can see it very clearly the way Janai holds her breath, her fingers clutching the clipboard she’s brought with her and her eyes scanning her just like Amaya just did with her.

Once Janai looks up again, their gaze lock, Amaya knows that she’s made the right decision.

Janai throws a glance at Kazi, who simply nods, then she gestures for Amaya to follow.

As slow as one can be, taking all the time in the world, Amaya strolls her way to where Janai is.

She sees it in the other woman’s eyes that she’s not being fast enough, and she gloats at the thought of what her behaviour might be doing to her.

Finally, she reaches her, and Janai turns around and walks back toward the same corridor she just came from.

This time, Amaya picks up the pace.

They enter a small, well lit room with a desk and a pile of different sketchbooks.

Amaya casts a distracted glance at all of them before turning to face Janai. As the Elf closes the door behind them, Amaya grabs her wrist and spins her around. The air seems to leave the room and her lungs, because she can’t believe she’s actually touching her. Janai’s skin is warm, soft, and Amaya knows she doesn’t want to ever let go.

She finds Janai’s eyes, nodding with her eyebrows lifted in a silent question.

And Janai, looking as breathless as Amaya feels, nods back.

The clipboard falls on the floor.

Amaya kisses her.

Amaya kisses her and feels her stomach dropping, jumping and knotting a hundred different ways.

Her whole body is set of fire by the softness of Janai’s lips, by her strawberry taste, by the intoxicating perfume she’s wearing.

Janai’s long, warm fingers thread immediately through her hair, under the baseball hat, holding her head closer.

And just like that, they’re pressing against each other, pressing against the door, Amaya’s hands grabbing her waist and encouraging Janai’s body to arch against hers, Janai’s right leg wrapping around her thigh and bringing her closer still.

Their tongues meet almost immediately, and Amaya has never felt this turned on by a simple kiss before.

She feels Janai panting as they separate to check with each other, to make sure that this is still okay, before lounging against one another again.

Amaya can’t stop.

She doesn’t want to stop.

Janai tastes heavenly, she smells heavenly, and the skin under her fingertips is soft and beautiful and she is beautiful and oh, Amaya knows she’s not just there to fuck this woman once and forget about her.

Amaya wants to kiss her like this every day.

She wants Janai to kiss her like this every day.

They find themselves breathing heavily on each other’s lips, forehead pressed against each other, with Amaya’s hand on her neck and Janai’s palm on her cheek.

Distractedly, Amaya remembers what she’s gone there to do, before Janai’s sight had made her lose her damn mind.

It suddenly occurs to her that she will need to find a piece of paper and a pen, because Kazi can’t really be there to translate for her.

She opens her eyes, already finding Janai looking at her.

Without removing her hand from her cheek, Janai frees her other arm.

“Are you okay?” She signs.

Amaya blinks, and her heart skips a beat.

Then she blinks again.

A smile, a slow, hopeful, tentative smile starts to appear on her face.

_You sign?_ She asks.

Janai blushes, shrugging right after.

“A little.” Then, pointing at her mouth: “Can you read...?”

Amaya doesn’t even let her finish. She can. She absolutely can. She will be more than happy to read those wonderful lips of that means being able to communicate with Janai.

She nods, happily, eagerly.

“I started looking at YouTube tutorials online when you... When we started talking.”

Amaya’s mouth falls open.

She’s been learning for _her_...

Janai suddenly looks nervous.

“I hope I did not overstep. I was hoping to be able to... I just wanted to be able to understand you.”

Amaya doesn’t know what to say.

And not because whichever signs she’d decide to use would be too hard for someone who’s been learning ASL for only a couple of weeks.

But because she is completely at a loss for words.

She smiles, in disbelief and happiness, and grabs Janai’s tie with her free hand, the one that is not holding onto Janai’s waist.

She pulls her closer to kiss her, and this time, it’s the softest of touches.

Janai breaths against the kiss, wrapping her arms around her neck and accidentally knocking her baseball cap on the floor, but Amaya couldn’t care less.

She has a beautiful, amazing woman in her arms and she is not going to let her go any time soon.

When she comes back to the shop, a stupid smile on her face and her baseball cap all askew, she doesn’t even need to see Gren’s reaction to know that she must be looking like the most lovesick puppy in the whole damn world.

Of course, that doesn’t stop Gren from asking all the questions possible.

As she enters the gym, hands already wrapped and her MMA gloves under her arm, she sends a quick text.

“I can’t wait to kiss u again”

“dinner with me, friday?”

The answer is almost immediate.

**“It is maddening and endearing how forward you are.”**

Amaya snickers to herself, leaning against the bag.

“is that a yes”

**“Yes, darling. It is a yes.”**

If Amaya manages to keep it together at her affirmative response, the use Janai makes of the darling absolutely annihilates her.

She has to close her eyes for a moment, because her body simply does not responds to basic commands, like typing a simple answer on her phone.

When she manages to get herself together, she goes back to look at the screen and sees another message.

**“We could perhaps ask Kazi and your friend Gren if they would like to join us? I know they both fancy each other.”**

“fancy?”

“is that the elegant way of saying they want to bone so bad they can barely formulate coherent sentences?”

**“Crass. You are impossible.”**

Amaya smirks, a smirk that grows to a full on grin when Janai adds:

**“But yes, that is what I meant.”**

Amaya nods to herself.

“cool. Yeah I think that’s a good idea.”

“as much as I’d like to tease you and spend time alone with you, we could use a translator.”

**“I agree. My signing is still not that great.”**

“oh, I don’t care about your signing. I just wanna embarrass Gren as much as possible by having him translate dirty things.”

Once again, she knows she’s drawing a heavy sigh from Janai.

**“Go do your workout, Amaya.”**

“aye aye!”


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amaya panics for half of the chapter.  
> Callum and Ezran make an appearance.  
> Janai is too hot to handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd as usual, ENJOY!

**Chapter 4**

* * *

They somehow manage not to see each other before Friday.

They are both very keen about trying to keep the distance until then, knowing they have already blown some steps by making out against the door of Janai’s studio.

Neither regrets it one bit, but Amaya has thought about how much this has gone beyond her initial desire of sleeping with this woman.

If she’d had any doubt before, after kissing Janai and being kissed that way by the Elf, she knows for a fact that she wants more.

She is not sure how much more exactly, but she’s excited to find out.

She hasn’t had a relationship in so long, she is not entirely sure if she remembers how it works anymore. The scary part is that, although marginally, Sarai had always been there for her.

Her sister had never really interfered with her past relationships, valuing Amaya’s independence and trusting her choices. But she’d always been there to talk it out, she’d always been there to listen to her talking about this or that person and nodding along to Amaya’s thoughts.

Now, Amaya knows she can’t have that. Sure, Gren is there and Gren is her best friend.

But there are things Gren simply can’t understand, and the fact that Gren just isn’t her big sister.

She knows there’s nothing no one can do about that.

Either way, Gren is there for her and she is there for him.

They go to each other’s apartment prior to their double date to help with the outfit choice, and Amaya is grateful for his input, because she knows she would be absolutely lost without it.

“You’d probably show up in basketball shorts and a hoodie, if we were to leave the choice to you.” He says, as he goes through her closet.

Amaya sticks the tongue out at him, but doesn’t respond. He is not entirely wrong.

Gren also agrees to keep bringing the flowers to the tattoo parlour, every day until the date, when Amaya decides to bring the flower to the dinner itself.

Her decision must unnerve or worry Janai, because when she doesn’t send over Gren during their usual lunch break, that Friday, Janai texts her.

**“Are we still okay for tonight?”**

Amaya sucks on her finger, unsuccessfully cleaning it from the ketchup, and texts a reply with her free hand.

“yeah sure”

“why”

She knows exactly why, and part of her wants to ease Janai’s mind by sending Gren out with a flower right this second.

But she has spent way too much time tip toeing around Janai without making it obvious just how much she likes this woman, and she feels like it’s important that she brings the flower herself, tonight.

**“I am quite positive you know why, you little shit.”**

Amaya almost chokes on her french fry as she snorts out a laugh. With a smug smile, she cleans both her hands on the napkin and grabs the phone properly.

“yeah I do”

“we are really really on for tonite I promise”

“can’t wait actually”

It takes less than ten seconds for Janai to answer, and Amaya feels a surge of affection and happiness at the thought that Janai is probably taken by this situation just as much as she is.

**“I can’t wait, either. It is surprising, considering how annoying you are, that I actually like you this much.”**

Amaya’s heart skips something like three full beats, and the woman groans, abandoning her head heavily on the table.

This is _so_ not going according to her initial plan.

The time for the date comes way sooner than Amaya expects. After the conversation they have at lunch, the hours go by like minutes, and Amaya finds herself standing in her bra and boxers in front of her bed, with the outfit Gren has picked laid out in front of her, completely still.

She stares at her clothes, jeans and a blouse, together with a blazer that she’s probably worn once in her life, and absolutely hates having agreed to do this.

She throws a glance at her phone.

Last time she’s had a date, Sarai had been right on the other side of it, texting her reassuringly and offering the smallest of jokes to distract her from what was coming.

As she stares longingly and sadly at the phone, she realizes it’s been almost nine years since she’s gone on a serious date with someone.

Someone she doesn’t just want to fuck and forget about the day after.

Someone who makes her heart beat faster or stop altogether with a simple sentence.

Someone who is not just incredibly hot on the outside, but is also spectacularly beautiful and interesting on the inside.

Amaya can’t remember a time she’s felt this good about another person, and it scares her.

She drops on her bed, rubbing her palms on her face.

Sarai is gone.

She knows it and she’s come to term with it a long time ago.

But sometimes… sometimes it’s just _hard_.

Amaya is convinced she’s never going to be fully okay with her sister’s death. She knows it’s normal, but the pain it causes her is just as strong as it was when the police had come knocking at her door in the middle of the night, telling her that Sarai and her husband had been involved in a horrible car accident, a disaster that had left the couple’s two young sons orphaned, but miraculously alive.

Amaya’s head snaps up.

She grabs the shirt from the bed and puts it on, buttoning it up just enough to look decent, wears her blazer, then grabs her phone.

The device rings for a couple of seconds, then her nephew’s face fills up the screen, and Amaya’s heart lurches in her chest.

_Callum_. She spells.

“Aunt Amaya!” He exclaims, happy and surprised. He raises a hand to tell her to wait, then turns to talk to someone who is not in the frame. A moment later, Ezran barrels in, his smiling, innocent features filling up the screen. He waves at her, before furrowing his brows in concern.

“Is everything okay?” He asks, both talking and signing with his free hand. He doesn’t know ASL as well as Callum, but he’s mastered that sentence, by now. Amaya sighs.

Of the two, Ezran has always been the more perceptive. Not that Callum doesn’t pick up on certain things, but Ezran can read people like they’re all open books to him.

She nods, then shrugs, then shakes her head.

_I have a date._ She signs, before she can even stop to think about what she’s saying and who she’s saying it to.

When she does, she blinks in surprise.

She’s never, not even once, talked to her nephews about her love life.

Not once she’s mentioned about dates, or people she’s loved, or going out in general with anyone other than Gren.

This is completely new, and it’s new how easy it is to say it and to confide in her nephews, her kids, the only link she has left to her sister and their family.

On the other side of the screen, both Ezran and Callum start cheering, jumping up and down with so much energy that the phone ends up recording only blurred figures.

Amaya smiles, snapping her fingers repeatedly to grab their attention.

The kids compose themselves, and when Callum finally places his phone down on the stand to be able to sign with both hands, they have matching grins on their faces that are a painful and pleasant mix of their parents’.

“Who are they?” Callum asks. “How did you meet them? We want to know everything, Auntie.”

Amaya chuckles, awkwardly shaking her head.

It is a little weird to be sitting on her bed, FaceTiming with her very young nephews, talking about a date with a girl who has literally set both her body and her heart on fire.

But their family hasn’t been anything other than weird.

So she tells them.

_Her name is Janai, and she’s beautiful._

She carefully avoids talking about how she’d wanted to literally slam Janai on the nearest surface or how hot it had been when they’d made out in Janai’s office, of course.

Understanding or not, she’s not about to scar her nephews for life.

But the rest of the story, she tells.

And her affection and her clear attraction must shine through, because Callum and Ezran not so subtly start exchanging excited glances at almost every word she signs.

By the time she’s done, Ezran is quite literally bouncing on the spot.

Callum, although he is smiling like a mad man, seems to be dying to say something.

_What’s up, Callum?_

The boy, who’s childish features are slowly molding into the ones of a young adult, chews on his lower lip. Finally, after fidgeting with his own fingers for a couple more seconds, he straightens himself up.

“Why are you dressed like that?”

Amaya furrows her brows and looks down. She’s wearing the blouse and blazer that Gren has picked for her.

She realizes quickly that her nephews have never seen her in such a formal attire. She shrugs, looking back up at Callum.

_My outfit for the date?_

Almost immediately after Callum translates for Ezran’s sake, she can see the disapproval on the boys’ face.

Ezran, who is way less self-conscious than his older brother, stands up, crossing his arms and shaking his head.

“Heck no, Aunt Amaya!” He exclaims. “You always tell us that we have to be proud to be ourselves, and that people will like us for who we are.”

He gestures for the blouse, as Callum translates with a grin on his face.

“That’s not who you are. Plus, you look so... so...”

He frowns, looking for the right word, before turning to seek help from Callum.

“Stiff.” Callum supplies, signing the word with a nod. “Uncomfortable.”

Amaya, who has never once doubted of her nephews intelligence, realizes how wrong she had been.

Sure, Sarai is gone. But her sons live through her.

Exactly when she’d needed her sister’s opinion the most, her nephews had stepped up and told her exactly what she’d needed to hear.

She swallows a lump of many contrasting emotions that’s formed in her throat, and nods.

_Jeans and shirt?_

“Tank top.” Callum corrects, adding the second part only by signs and not voicing it out loud despite his little brother’s protests: “You’ve got real nice arms, Aunt Amaya. Show them off. They’ll kill this girl on the spot.”

Amaya barks out a laugh, and she can’t stop laughing even as her nephews start bickering. Callum flushes, probably realizing the full implications of what he’s said.

Amaya stays on the phone with them for the next half hour, and Callum and Ezran cheer at her as she changes back into one of her favorite outfits.

She stops by the shop before heading to _The Breach_ , the restaurant they’ve picked for the night, and spends another solid ten minutes digging between her flowers.

She is more than determined to find something nice, something peculiar, but knowing the meaning of her plants is both a blessing and a curse in disguise.

As pretty as they might look, she’s not going to bring Janai a columbine, when the meaning of it is faithlessness and ingratitude.

She’s pacing in a growing panic when she stops in front of her carnations. She blinks. A carnation in general means fascination, distinction. But the colors are also important for that specific plant.

Excited, she digs through the rows of carnations, knowing she’s had at least _one_ hidden somewhere...

She plucks a single green carnation out of a forest of white ones. It’s small, and young, but healthy and really, really pretty.

Amaya admires her flower and nods to herself. It’s perfect.

As she strolls up to the restaurant, she spots Gren leaning against the wall, phone in his hand, nervously checking his surroundings.

When he sees her, he does a double take, before bursting out laughing.

_What_? She grins, knowing fully well what has sparked his amusement.

Her outfit is possibly the furthest thing possible to what Gren had previously picked for her.

She’s donning a pair of light brown shorts that fall just below her knees, a white tank top and a zip up jacket, her beloved black Vans and a beanie pressed on her head.

“What happened to the blazer?" Gren exclaims, still laughing.

Amaya shrugs, twirling the flower from one hand to the other.

_It wasn’t me._

Gren laughs and shakes his head, but he understands. Amaya knows he does.

They chat for a few minutes, Gren eyeing the flower curiously. She knows he is probably confused by the choice of color.

After all, she could’ve chosen any other carnation; the green is a very specific and odd choice.

Amaya finds herself more nervous than she’d expected, and she’s grateful for Gren’s presence: her friend is also nervous, but he handles it by trying to make the most random kind of conversation. Amaya is content with just witnessing his rambling.

When his hands still in the air, though, and his eyes dart to something just behind Amaya’s shoulders, Amaya feels her heart in her throat.

She spins around, and her eyes catch the really cute outfit Kazi is donning -dress pants and blouse- before blanking completely in front of Janai.

Her brain becomes instant mush.

Amaya stares with her mouth hanging open, eyes skipping over a pair of illegally tight leather pants -this woman is trying to murder her- to the small portion of skin between those and a vest.

Because _of course_ Janai is wearing a _vest_.

But that’s not really the problem.

Janai is wearing _only_ a vest.

Amaya nearly damn chokes on her own spit when her eyes fall on the very generous cleavage left right there to be stared at, and it’s only when two gentle fingers tap her chin that she manages to look up.

“Close your mouth, darling.” Janai muses. “I would hate to see you choking on a fly.”

Amaya blinks up, completely mesmerized by the view in front of her.

Janai is really close, and her eyes are full of mirth and gentleness at the same time, her lips are so full and just slightly parted, and her hair is falling gently on her shoulders, braids and dreadlocks mixing together, and Amaya just wants to kiss her.

Janai’s eyes fall on her mouth, and she knows they’re both already thinking of something other than the date...

...Gren steps on her foot, decidedly and intentionally.

They turn around, finding their two friends looking at them with two identical shit eating grin on their faces.

Amaya matches their expression, shrugging like she didn’t just try to undress her date with her eyes in the middle of the street, and she catches Janai softly blushing and looking away.

Amaya reaches for her, touching her wrist to catch her attention.

_What do you do to me, that every time I see you, my brain stops working?_ She asks, with Gren translating.

Janai blushes some more, but she tilts her head.

“Human brain is quite limited after all.” Is Janai’s response.

Amaya notices Gren and Kazi holding their breaths at the stab, but they have no idea that this is pure foreplay for them, at this point. Through texts or in person, Janai is a constant challenge: she is smart, and claps back to every single thing she says, in a constant, amazing banter.

Amaya starts cackling, slipping her arm under Janai’s and marching into the restaurant.

(Janai takes the chair out for her, and if Amaya didn’t want to do things to her before, she most certainly wants now.)

She slips her the flower after they order, and Janai smiles. She smiles so big, Amaya dies a little inside, because _naturally_ this woman has _dimples_.

“Thank you.” Janai murmurs, tucking her flower carefully into her purse. “What does it mean?”

Amaya elbows Gren, and he looks suspiciously at her before answering.

“Carnations in general mean fascination, distinction, Janai.” He explains. Kazi is listening with rapt attention, but Amaya is convinced the Elf would listen to Gren read the back of a shampoo bottle, if the way they’re looking at him is any indication. “But green carnations mean... Well, they’re the secret symbol of the followers of Oscar Wilde.”

Janai’s eyes widen just so, whereas Kazi throws a confused glance at Gren, who shrugs in response.

Amaya can’t keep her eyes off Janai, who turns to look at her with the softest of gazes.

“You remembered.” Janai says, and Amaya nods.

It had been one of their earliest conversations, when Janai had mentioned how much she’d loved Oscar Wilde, growing up, and how her favorite book still is ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’.

_Of course_.

Amaya dares reaching out to touch Janai’s hand on the table, and Janai immediately turns it palm up, awkwardly interlacing their fingers.

Amaya feels her heart soaring.

**Author's Note:**

> I have absolutely no clue how long this is going to be.  
> For reference, Amaya is the Skater Lesbian in this fic. We all know her: beanie, flannels, vans, baseball tees and caps... You're welcome.


End file.
